


A Stroll With Theo

by Jennytheshipper



Series: The Life And Death Of Sugar Candy [4]
Category: Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943), Powell & Pressburger - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:17:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennytheshipper/pseuds/Jennytheshipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here she was about to leave tomorrow with her case not packed and nothing to show for herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Stroll With Theo

**Author's Note:**

> Set a few days after [A Riverside Interlude](http://archiveofourown.org/works/717927) and the day before Clive leaves for London.

Edith sat in the visitor’s room of the nursing home. With some effort, she refrained from checking her watch again. She should really be back in her room, packing for her journey, but routine had brought her to her usual place, waiting for Clive’s affectionate “Hullo, old thing!”  

He was terribly late. It was unlike him not to at least leave word, unless, of course, he was larking about with Theo. The pair of them could be rather thoughtless when left to their own devices. She wondered whether to check Clive’s room again. Perhaps they had just gone out for a walk and lost track of time. It was a wonder either of them had got on at all in the military with such sloppy time-keeping. They’d never rise at all in the governess trade.

But then, why should they want to? Here she was about to leave tomorrow with her case not packed and nothing to show for herself. She’d waited all these weeks for a definite sign from Clive. After all, everyone said they were practically engaged. As far as the British embassy was concerned it was a _fait accompli_. She pushed down a wave of panic thinking about her parents. What would they say if she came home after all this time unattached _and_ unemployed? Her name and Clive’s being spoken of together. It was like before - only worse somehow. Those dreadful confrontations with her mother, over James. She couldn’t face it again.  

How on earth had she let it come to this? Where had the time gone? She and Clive were never alone much these days, with Theo usually occupying Clive’s days and Frau Von Kalteneck so obviously trying to monopolise Clive’s attentions during their evening card parties. She didn’t know what she would have done, without Theo’s kind attentions. He would be kinder still if he would just keep that woman away!   

Clive certainly acted as if they were engaged on occasion, but then his manner was overly familiar with everyone. He and Theo, mortal enemies once, were now bosom friends. She had found Clive impertinent at first, but once she’d seen his lack of guile she found him perfectly charming. She knew her parents would love him. Who wouldn’t? He was such a warm, solid presence. And quite a catch. Even her mother would have to see that. If only she could be sure.

She rose and went to the front desk to inquire after Herr Candy. Before she could get the attention of the duty nurse she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Aha! Miss Hunter.” 

She turned to see Theo Kretschmar-Schuldorff smiling broadly, dressed in his greatcoat, as if he were just returning from a walk. That explained it. Theo and Clive did like to sneak out without telling her.

“I was just about to call on you” he said in his peculiar German, emphasising the word “call” for no reason that Edith could see.  

“On me?”

“Herr Candy has gone out. He is touring Frau von Kalteneck’s stables. They would have waited, but she thought you might not like horses.”

“I have no opinion one way or the other on the matter,” Edith said, coolly. That crafty woman must have spirited Clive out through some side entrance. She half suspected that Theo had something to do with it.  But why would he help her to - ? Oh it was maddening to have the last day spoiled like this, but she supposed she could try to sort things out on the train. Yes, the train had possibilities. 

“It is just as well. I have a great deal to get ready for tomorrow. It was very kind of you Herr Kretsch- ”

“Theo. Please. Or we will be here all day,” he said with a little bow.  

“Theo, it was very kind of you to bring me the message” she said, trying to check her disappointment at Clive’s absence.

“It is such a lovely day. Will you not walk with me for a short while? As you see, I am dressed to go out” he said, gesturing to his coat. She thought he was well aware that he cut a smart figure in it. “I like to get a little exercise every day. It would be a pity to go back to my room to think of another excuse to leave.”

Edith was about to say that she was quite sure he’d been out already, but decided to hold her tongue. It wouldn’t do to confront him with conspiracies. She was probably being silly. Perhaps a stretch of the legs, some air, would do her good as well.  

“I would like that _very much_ , Theo” she said, emphasising the little joke that he and Clive shared. Theo blushed and looked away for a moment, but recovered himself to offer his arm, and they walked out.

It was indeed a lovely day and they rambled toward the Stolpchensee like any other couple out for a stroll in the Spring air. Edith noticed that Theo seemed unusually quiet. Not at all his charming and attentive self. Perhaps it had something to do with Frau von Kalteneck’s stables.  

“You did not wish to see the horses?” she asked, hoping to draw him out.  

“I have seen them many times. Frau von Kalteneck has very fine stables, very competently managed.” His face was inscrutable; formal and distant. She’d seen him put on the Prussian before when it suited him.    

“And Frau von Kalteneck? Forgive me for being so forward, but I assumed that you and she had an understanding.”  

“Frau von Kalteneck and I have been good friends. And now, I think, she wishes to get to know Clive - Herr Candy, better.”  His words were discreet, but an image assailed her: Clive on his knees in the hayloft, his head thrown back in laughter, his teeth exposed, equine. Slapping Frau Von Kalteneck on the hindquarters like horseflesh. She laughing and picking straw from her lover’s tousled hair. Edith willed the vision away. She must not panic. Not yet. Theo might be mistaken. There was still time. The train. Always the train for reconciliation.    

“I see. Thank you for telling me,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

“I’m not sure you do.” he said, with a look that was kind and sad. He took a deep breath as if what he were about to say would hurt him more than her. “Miss Hunter, now it is I who must beg forgiveness for being too forward, but - I do not think Herr Candy will be leaving tomorrow.”

She could scarcely take it on board. That was the end, then. Clive and that woman were engaged. She longed for the previous horror, when Clive was merely sowing wild oats. But this. He was lost forever to her. Her face flushed. She would not cry. She wouldn’t lose control in front of Clive’s friend. She had been humiliated enough for one day.   

“It pains me to be the one to tell you this. I hate to see you in this deplorable position.” Theo said, squeezing her arm. Another time she might have pulled back from him, out of respect for Clive. What did it matter now? She allowed herself to lean on him a little.      

“What? Oh, that. It is not as bad as all that, Theo” she said. How strange that she should lie. She felt less like holding back every second.  

“I’m terribly sorry, Miss Hunter,” he said gently. Honestly, he was very sweet and very proper but she wanted him to go away. She wanted to be alone. She felt she might cry, after all, out of anger. The female reaction. She and her mother would get into a row and would start crying before voices were even raised, while her father looked on, bemused. Oh, it was such a damn nuisance being a woman sometimes.    

She blinked and swallowed hard, determined to soldier on. Of course, Theo’s news explained why Clive had not proposed. The little time alone they’d had would have been enough if he truly wanted her. She had seen Frau von Kalteneck - Mariel as she always insisted - flirt with Clive, from their first introduction, but she’d always considered it harmless. Had assumed that Clive saw through it, but was too polite to demure. She had, without realising until now, taken her cue from Theo on this. He had always been so nonchalant about it and, after all, if he didn’t mind, why should she?

 They had both been blind, apparently, though Theo did not seem like a man nursing a fresh wound. It was difficult to tell of course, he was very soldierly. Like Clive. Oh Clive! What a mess he’d left her in! What if the Government refused to cover her ticket because she wasn’t traveling with Clive? She would have to write home for her fare. She was almost out of money and she had no prospects of another job. 

Her mind hurtled from one dilemma to the next, but her feet slowed. Theo, always the gallant, matched her pace. He still steadied her with his arm. She looked at him blankly. Why was he not Clive? And hadn’t Clive at least owed her an explanation? He should have been the one to tell her! The coward. Perhaps it was a good thing he hadn’t. She might have pushed him in the canal. Predictably, her wrath turned on the bearer of the bad news. She studied him through narrowed eyes. Theo with his fancy pomade and his ridiculous moustache! He was always with Clive when she wanted to see him. And he had brought that woman into Clive’s life and now everything was ruined. 

But that was unfair. Even if the wound was not fresh, he’d still been cut, hadn’t he?

“I’m sorry for you as well,” she heard herself say. “That your - understanding with Mariel fell through. Were you, forgive me, very attached to her?”

“I think things have run their course. It was her decision, but it was for the best.” Again his face was no help in discerning his feelings. The sentiment was admirable though; wise counsel.  

“You are very brave. I will endeavour to think as you do. Maybe someday I will really - ” she faltered. Her eyes burned, but she still fought the tears. Theo pulled her to him in an embrace. Oh, but his arms were strong and he was warm. She was safe there. There would be no shame in it. He felt it too. He must. She gave in, crying into the lapel of his greatcoat, dampening the fur of his collar. It passed quickly. She never was one for great wracking sobs. She straightened up, embarrassed, stroking Theo’s fur back into place. He took out a handkerchief and handed it to her. She dabbed her eyes and blew her nose and then squirrelled the hankie away in the pocket of her jacket.  

“Better?” he asked, still holding one of her elbows.

“Yes, thank you. You’re very kind,” she said and managed a weak smile.

“Oh nonsense.” he said and they walked on for a while in silence, her arm looped through his as before. She stole a glance at him and saw that he had lost his distant look and was agitated. That was strange. What did he have to be nervous about? His face was going quite red and he fidgeted with one of his gloves before stuffing it in his coat pocket. What could be the matter with him?  He stopped suddenly, cleared his throat and took both Edith’s hands firmly in his.  

“Miss Hunter,” he began and then unexpectedly dropped to one knee.

She heard the words of his proposal as if they came from the other side of the canal. This was not the first time she’d been proposed to, but certainly it was the first time a dashing Prussian had gone down on his knees on her account. It was like a scene from a melodrama but the hero was all wrong, as though the understudy had been put on at the last minute in place of the leading man. Had she really cast Clive as her hero in her mind? She must have. She looked at Theo with some pity. He was still there, gallantly, a bit painfully, kneeling on the gravel looking up at her.   

“Oh Theo, it is really very sweet of you to think of my reputation. But it isn’t necessary. I can protect myself.” She looked about, embarrassed, hoping they were not gathering stares. The path was thankfully empty.  

“I’m not only thinking of your reputation,” he said locking eyes with hers. The sudden directness of his gaze unnerved her. It was difficult to hold it, almost as if she were looking into the sun.   

“For some weeks, I have thought that we get along very well. We would make an excellent - ” he paused, as if thinking of the right word, “team.”   

“From a partner at cards to a partner in life?” she asked, not hiding the derision in her voice. 

“If you like,” he said looking wounded at her tone. “Though it may sound absurd, that has always been my ideal marriage: a partnership.”

Edith was somewhat taken aback, hearing her own innermost thoughts on the topic, spoken to her in this way. She had not expected this from a soldier. She was certain that Mariel heard no such similar sentiment from Clive Candy. She realised, suddenly, how much she’d been prepared to compromise for Clive.  

“The sentiment is not absurd. Not at all,” she said squeezing his hand in reassurance, “but the situation is. Theo please stand up.” He obeyed, brushing off his uniform trousers as if he were a trifle embarrassed himself.  

“I am sorry, this is so sudden. I could not speak sooner, you understand.” 

She nodded. She supposed he was waiting until Clive had made his move one way or another; the duelists consulting their codex to the last point.  

She should refuse him and be done with it, but something about the way he still held her hands stopped her. It was the same as the simple way he’d hugged her. She didn’t want him to let go and if she declined his offer, he must.  

“It’s customary, I think, in these situations to give a lady time to decide.”

“Yes, of course. But not too long” he said with a smile. She noticed for the first time a gap in his teeth. It made him look boyish. He was no Dragoon after all. He was a child with imperfect teeth and a toy moustache. The smile faded and she came to her senses.  

“But oh, Theo, we barely know each other. I know nothing about you. What I’ve seen of your character at the card table has been admirable.” She remembered something she’d noticed at their increasingly infrequent card nights. She tried to affect a playful tone. “You know, I’ve often suspected that you let Herr Candy win, for some reason.” 

He chuckled quietly and they began to walk again, her arm looped through his. He was still holding her hands. His warmth penetrated even through her gloves. His fingers firm but gentle.

“As you say, Miss Hunter, we don’t know each other as well as some couples who marry. But we know each other more than many,” he said and looked satisfied, as if he’d won the point. He was teasing she was sure, but she decided to play along.  

“Arranged marriages you mean?” she asked.

“Yes.” he said, drawing out the word, as if there were some other kinds of couple who were thrown together without knowing one another. She waited, but he did not elaborate. She decided to carry on with her argument.  

“I beg to differ. If my family were to arrange a marriage for us they would have taken the trouble to determine who your people were, and how you were fixed, financially.”

“Yes, of course,” he conceded. He paused and then looked satisfied again.

“I notice, Miss Hunter, that you have not mentioned those couples who are swept up in passion,” he said and released her hand to put his hand to head in a mock swoon. “Those who lock eyes across a crowded room and head for the altar, crying ‘this is the one for me. Heaven has ordained it’.” 

Edith laughed at his melodrama. He seemed pleased to entertain her.

“I don’t think such things happen outside of stories,” she said. 

“If I can fight a duel with a man I’ve never met before, anything can happen,” he said and suddenly looked as if he regretted the mention of Clive. She smiled to assure him that she was alright. They walked on and she realised she was no closer to learning anything about Theo.

“I can only assume that with the hyphen, the Kretschmar-Schuldorff name comes with an old house and a long list of important relations.”

“No house. And my relations are few and far between,” he answered as if he were still debating, and then narrowed his eyes and said, “but I see, you want to know how I’m…how I’m fixed as you say. Quite right. All very proper, Miss Hunter. I have my officer’s pay which is modest, and the expectation of a little income besides which will allow me to marry comfortably.” 

Edith’s mind flitted back to that earlier proposal. James _had_ come with the respectable relations and family seat. She had to admit that she liked the idea of marrying someone whose name had not been paraded around at home like a trophy by her mother and aunts. And his not being rich, it was closer to her idea of equality than James, or even Clive.   

“I have only a small dowry, a few hundred a year, laid aside by my mother, and intended for keeping me in the latest fashion in hats when I married. You see - my family had someone picked out for me, someone rather rich.”  

“Was this someone Clive?” 

“Oh, heavens, no. Before Clive. That’s why I came here, to Germany. I had a very good offer which I refused and I felt it was best to duck out for a bit till things calmed down.” She dared another look at him. His gaze was fond and he offered a sympathetic nod.  

They had arrived at the edge of the widest part of the canal. There was a boat hire, not yet open for the season. The brightly painted canoes were chained and under cover.

“That’s a pity. It would be nice to be out on the water,” he said, wistfully. Edith was quietly relieved. Being made love to in a boat was such a cliché. They walked on a few yards and she saw that his attention was turned to a dock some distance ahead with a small rowing boat tied up. Further along the path were another soldier and his girl who had obviously spotted it at the same time and had begun to move toward it as well. Theo’s pace quickened and he towed Edith along with him. She struggled to keep up and was forced to take many mincing little steps because her skirt was not designed for such walking. Theo noticed her trouble and slowed his pace. The boat seemed sure to be lost to the other couple. Something about this impending loss sparked her competitive instincts and she moved more quickly - almost running - so that Theo had to walk quite fast to keep up with her. Damn her skirt! But they were almost there and they had won the prize - the other couple was still yards away. She looked at them in triumph until the defeated officer - probably someone Theo knew - winked as he passed. She blushed deeply. She had been carried away! And now, there was nothing for it. She was going to be one of those women who got into little boats with big soldiers. 

Theo crouched down and into the boat, steadying it with one hand on the dock while offering the other to Edith. She had no choice but to lift her hem almost to her knee before she could step down into the boat. He glanced appreciatively at her leg. She did not have long to feel self-conscious as the boat was wobbling and he took her hand and settled her into her seat. Theo took off his greatcoat, folded it and set in the boat at his feet. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his tunic and rolled up his sleeves to the elbow. Thus prepared, he had them, in a few strong, broad strokes of the oars, in the middle of the canal. She took off one of her gloves, leaned over gingerly, and touched the smooth surface of the water as it glided beneath her hand. She gasped a little.

“It’s cold. Very cold.”

“Yes. It is. We shall be very careful not to overturn. You will be safe with me, I promise.”

The ridiculousness of the situation began to mount in her mind and she shook her head, before she realised she was doing so. She was on the verge of demanding they go back to shore when he spoke.

“What is the matter, Miss Hunter?”

“Don’t you think you should call me Edith?” she said in a tone that was far from inviting further intimacy.  

“It depends on your answer to my question. Now, why were you shaking your head at me? You disapprove of me?” he asked. The sun was behind him just then and his face in shadow. His voice challenged her, though.  

“I disapprove of this whole situation. I don’t want to put my life in your hands, Theo. I don’t know if I can trust you. I feel I’d be better off on my own. I’m not the sort of woman who takes this lightly, getting into a boat, a _stolen_ boat, with a handsome soldier, over dangerous waters.” She finished, hotly. Theo was quiet, his face still hidden, and she feared she had really offended him. 

“So, you think I’m handsome, then?”

She laughed. There was no shaming Theo. He was what he was. And really he had always been very sweet and charming, hadn’t he? It was nice to be distracted from the disappointment with Clive. She studied him as he rowed. He _was_ very nice looking. The muscles in his pale forearms stood out with the effort and she remembered with a flush the feel of them around her. His embrace had been comforting, yes, but something beside that. They were lovely arms and she wondered about the rest of his body, what it would look like naked in the sun. She supposed this was exactly why men took girls out in boats. To show themselves to best advantage, the peacocks. She had noticed his looks before, of course, but had dismissed him as too showy. Clive was more her cup of tea, understated, solid, respectable. Now it seemed that looks could be deceptive. She winced. That was the part, after all, that hurt the most, not the rejection, but the way in which it had come about. So underhanded. There was something almost cad-like in Clive’s behaviour. Something she would never have thought him capable of. She chalked it up to the influence of that woman. Could he _really_ be in love with her? It seemed unlikely. They’d only just met. But then Edith had not known Clive that much longer. Oh listen to her, honestly! The absurdity was that now she was sitting here entertaining a proposal from a man she barely knew at all. And she really _was_ considering it. There was no point fooling herself.    

She put her glove back on and buttoned it. How little there really was to end with Clive. If only she had taken some initiative with him, maybe she would be sitting in a boat with him, instead. Did she even want that now? She didn’t know. She looked at Theo who had stopped rowing. He was gazing at a small outcrop of trees near where they’d found the boat, seemingly lost in thought. With his face turned she could appreciate his profile and the pleasant curve of his jaw. He turned toward her suddenly, as if remembering himself and she cast her eyes away shyly.  

Theo guided them toward a quiet, smaller canal that fed into the Stolpchensee. The sun went behind the clouds and a breeze wafted across the icy waters. Edith tried in vain to suppress a shiver. They floated into a small lane that was surrounded by evergreen forest on either side. The water was remarkably still.  

“Come here,” he said, unfolding his greatcoat and spreading it out on the floor of the boat. He took off his cap and flung it down, revealing the stark white bandage on his head. She followed his lead and undid her hat, cautiously, setting it on the seat next to her. She began to tremble. It felt freezing without her hat. He shifted himself down and reached out his hand for her. She wondered if he had summoned up that breeze and cloud, just for this moment, to lure her to his side. She took his hand - oh it was so warm! - and he lifted her down, effortlessly, turning her so that her back rested on his chest. She lay neatly across his body, her head tucked under his chin as naturally as if he’d been built to measure for the purpose. Glorious warmth enveloped her as he put his arms around her and took her hands in his again. There was something so wonderfully, well, _un-English_ about the direct way he touched her. There was no fuss. It just happened. And the heat from him. Was there ever anything quite so lovely? She relaxed back into him, breathing in deeply his scent which was no longer merely pomade, but the smell of tobacco and sweat mingled with perfume. He unbuttoned her right glove, tracing the inside of her wrist with his thumb with a delightfully firm pressure. Edith felt a warm flush spread across her face, like the first little pricking fingers of drunkenness. Oh, he was taking a great deal of care in removing her left glove as if it were the focus of his whole attention. She tensed; a little afraid of something that was stirring to the surface inside her that she might not be able to push down again. 

“Edith,” he breathed  into her ear, elongating the first syllable of her name in a beguiling way, “Is it so bad, that I want to protect you?” No one spoke German quite so wonderfully as Theo, in a lilt that occasionally paused to emphasise, or no _, enjoy_ a word. She had noticed it at the card table, in the way he sometimes purred at Frau von Kalteneck, and earlier that day when he’d called on her. But here he was saying this for her ears alone, his breath warm on her neck. Could it have been her he wanted all along? Why hadn’t she seen it? He nuzzled her neck with his face, taking a little nibble of the place just above her collar where he skin was bare. His hands warm on her wrist, fingers tracing gently like ripples on the water.

 “Why won’t you let me take care of  you?” he murmured. None of the reasons that were so important a few minutes earlier came to her. There was nothing but him: his body surrounding her, warming her, his scent in every breath she took, his voice filling her ears. Such a simple question, so easy to answer, really.    

“Yes.” She couldn’t quite believe she heard herself say the word.  

“Yes, what?” he asked, tensing beneath her as he waited.  

“Yes, I will marry you,” she said and she turned her neck to kiss him. She hadn’t realised that her lips and nose were cold until she met the warmth of his, his moustache soft and cosy like the fur collar of his coat. Now she saw the advantage of such a big moustache. The kiss was short and awkward, but not without promise. She must manoeuvre to a better position. She rolled over, carefully, but quickly; her back suddenly chilled away from Theo’s warmth. There was no modest way to continue. She reached down and pulled that blasted skirt up past her knees so that she could sit astride Theo’s outstretched thighs. The wool of Theo’s coat scratched her knees even through her stockings. He looked a bit smug, as if he were about to say something saucy, when she leaned down and kissed him again, more deeply. 

Edith had never really enjoyed kissing until that moment. James’ lips had been too soft, his beard irritating, and his mouth, what she’d tasted of it, had been alien and unpleasant. Of course, she’d never kissed Clive. Would he have been timid and deferential like James? No, she remembered the way he had punched Kaunitz. A man like that would leave you knowing you’d been kissed. Oh, she should not think of Clive when she was kissing Theo!

Theo’s lips met hers with equal force. She did not mind that he tasted of cigarettes and coffee. That was all bound up with him now and, like his scent, were transformed into delights. Every new sensation - the tickle of his moustache and the roughness of some stubble on his cheek - added to the catalogue of her experience, and she wanted to remember it all, to go further, conquer new territory.

She must  unwrap him, get closer to the source of that heat of his. She set to work on his tunic. Oh what a lot of buttons! She began teasing them apart with her fingers. But it was hard work with her fingers stiff with cold. She couldn’t carry on and kiss him at the same time so she broke the kiss.   

“Is something the matter?” Theo asked, and the idea that he was the slightest bit anxious was something new. She shook her head, smiling. A feeling of power. The phrase “being made love to” was all wrong. It was what annoyed her more than anything. Being helpless and waiting for it.  

But this. She felt wonderfully in control and it spurred her on, and steadily each button gave way. Theo’s big warm hands roved her body - first on her waist, then her backside and finally resting on her thighs where his thumbs traced circles as they had on her wrists. An attack and retreat that left her wanting more each time. She spread her legs apart to give him access, wrestling with that accursed skirt. He smiled up at her mischievously. She saw his gap tooth again. A perfect imperfection. She tried to touch it with her finger but Theo nipped her playfully. She laughed. It had never occurred to her before how much fun this would be.    

Remembering her mission to remove his tunic, she carried on undoing the last few buttons and pushed the blue wool aside, only to find a white cotton shirt. More buttons, this time concealing his throat and collar bone. Oh, but he was lovely. She undid the tiny buttons and dark hair sprung out. She traced the divot at the base of his throat, but she could go no further without help, and he obliged by sitting up, removing his tunic and tugging his shirt off over his head in one quick, graceful movement.  She pushed him back down gently and pressed her cheek against his chest, enjoying the heat that rolled off him and the strangeness of a man’s breast with its hair and tiny stiff little nipples. She kissed one and nuzzled against him and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, almost growling in her ear. She idly traced the hair on his chest with her fingers and then, not quite believing her own boldness, moved her hands past his navel, down the quivering flesh of his belly, following the trail of hair, until she reached the frontier of his belt buckle. Before she could lose her nerve, she undid it clumsily as Theo’s hands came to rest on her flushed cheeks. She sat back on his thighs, he shifted to take her weight, and she felt him moving beneath her. God, yes, that was where she wanted to go. His expression had changed from mischief to something serious. He was studying her, waiting for her to make a move. She focused on his trousers again. More buttons! These were the most awkward yet. Something about the angle. She felt something stirring beneath her hands as she struggled. Tense, about to uncoil. She could see the outline of it, growing. Good lord!  Statues and paintings hadn’t prepared her for that. She sat frozen; surprised and uncertain how to proceed.

Theo grabbed her hands and hauled her gently up to his face, kissing her, thrusting his tongue deep in her mouth. God, it was like that thing down there and she wanted it. Wanted both inside her. He let go of her hands and began pulling her skirt farther up out of the way. She wiggled to help him, grazing against his hardness, sending a pulse of desire through her. His fingers slid under the edge of her drawers. She gasped “Oh God, oh God, yes.”  

She leaned forward, gripping his bandaged head as he worked at her drawers. She longed to run her fingers through his hair. She must be careful of his injury. She must learn to help him with it, be a proper nurse to him. God his hands on her thighs - the anticipation was terrible. Exquisite. He nearly had them off. She leaned forward to make it easier for him. The boat rocked. The sound of a splash. She righted herself and realised the splash had come from inside the boat. Her knees were cold --very cold and _wet_. She squinted in the dim light filtering through the pine boughs, and saw the boat was flooding.  

“We’re sinking!” she hissed, a touch dramatically. But oh, the frustration! Theo sat up quickly, almost dislodging her, to discover that his coat was completely sodden. Her boots and stockings were wet as well. She clambered off him, and retreated to her seat in the boat, straightening stockings and drawers and pulling down her skirt as she went. She was still tingling all over. Already she missed Theo’s hands on her. She felt something underneath her and realised she’d sat on her hat. She did her best to put it to rights as she watched Theo button his trousers and scramble into his damp vest and tunic. She winced in sympathy as he pulled his coat off the floor of the boat and tried to squeeze the water out of it.  

 “We have to get back.  You could catch your death.” he said, wrinkling his brow at his coat, petting the bedraggled fur. 

“I’ll be alright,” she said taking one end of the coat while he held the took the other. They twisted the garment opposite ways, wringing as much water out as they could.

“I don’t want go back.” she sighed, not hiding her disappointment. “We’ve been having such a grand time.”  

Theo laughed. “We have all the time in the world. Starting tomorrow!” he said, abandoning his coat for the oars. Edith was jealous of his opportunity to move and warm himself. She wiggled her toes in her boots. They were quite numb. She put her gloves back on, blushing; thinking of Theo unbuttoning them. They were dry at least. She smoothed her skirt, but it was hopelessly wrinkled. As he rowed swiftly back across the canal, she noticed that his tunic was fastened crookedly, only half the buttons done up. She smiled, barely suppressing a giggle. They quickly neared the shore and she looked round self-consciously. What a sight they were, the pair of them: he with his crooked buttons and her with her squashed hat. Theo landed them back at the dock, helping her out of the boat, and they were soon strolling along the path, her arm looped through his, as if butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths. And it wouldn’t. Edith was so cold her teeth chattered. Theo squeezed her arm and sneezed.  

Before she knew it, they were standing on the porch of the nursing home. He carried his coat over his arm and it dripped quietly onto the floor boards.  

“Maybe you can hang it in the sun. It should dry quickly. But oh, the fur! It might never be the same.” 

“I can get a new collar” he said, grinning and shivering, his gap tooth showing. She stopped fussing with the coat and took a step nearer to him. He kissed her quickly and again took both hands into his. He lifted them to his lips, not taking his eyes from hers.  

“Good day, Edith. Till tomorrow.” Oh, how she loved to hear him say her name.    

“Good day, darling,” she said as he let go of her hands. He turned and left quickly. “My fiancé” she whispered to herself, testing the word. She stood on the porch and watched him walk around the side of the building toward his room. He looked back once and waved, but hurried on. The nurses would give him a terrible scolding if they found that coat.  

She went up to her room in a daze, shivering with cold. She stripped, dropping her wet things in a lump on the floor. No need to worry about packing them, now. She climbed into bed to warm up, trying to conjure up the memory of Theo’s warmth. The bed was freezing - newly made with the sheets pulled tight. She kicked her feet to warm them and loosen the bed clothes. Blood slowly returned to her limbs. She peered under the covers and examined her knees. They were still red and chafed from grinding against the rough wool of Theo’s coat. Her insides lurched as she remembered his hands on her thighs. She ached to have him here in the bed with her. She imagined sneaking Theo up the stairs in the moonlight. Madness! They would be married in a week.  

She pushed her small, cold fingers against her thighs. Her hands were all wrong. The angle was not the same, she’d never be able to match the feeling. She rolled over in a fit of petulant frustration, beating her fists into the pillow like an angry child. In doing so found she liked the feel of the cool sheets against her bare backside. It was a little wicked to be naked in bed in the middle of the day. Oh, she was wanton. She moved up onto her elbows and moved her hips up against the weight of the tightly tucked blankets. She put her hand underneath her and began to grind down against it. That recovered some of the teasing pleasure she’d felt when Theo’s fingers were on her thighs. She thought of the rhythm of the boat on the water and moved with the memory of it. There was a spot in middle, swollen, another button, this one hers, and positioned so that she could easily manoeuvre it. Now _that_ was something quite - . Yes. She thrust her hips faster, almost slamming into her hand. Oh if she could she just feel his hands on her thighs again. She put her weight on one arm and used her free hand to push against her thigh, at the spot where it joined her backside. That was almost right. But she couldn’t sustain it for long. Her hand crushed underneath her, she could get no purchase to continue. This contortion was absurd.

She needed to rethink this. She had all the time in the world, really, as Theo had said. Why did it feel so urgent? She rolled over, lying flat on her back, her fist clenched on the pillow beside her.  Oh to still be in the boat with Theo. She would have him inside her with that thing. She couldn’t quite picture how it would work, but she supposed Theo would know. She just knew that she needed - something. And, all his experience. It didn’t bother her. It was exciting. Oh she was wanton. And she felt oddly grateful to Mariel for that. Mariel and others, maybe. It was all very wicked. As wicked as lying in bed naked in the middle of the day. She spread her legs apart, just a bit, and moved her hand back to that swollen place. How easy that was, like pushing a button again and again. Odd, that she’d never worked this out before.   

All this time with James’ clumsy touches and Clive’s friendly pats. Waiting to be touched only to be irritated or left frustrated. She was close to something. She pushed on, remembering Theo’s face in the boat. That serious look he’d given her. She’d never seen anything like it before. What was it? A mixture of surprise and gratitude. She spread her legs apart further, finding the edges of her narrow bed with her heels. It would not do to have Theo in this bed. Their bed would be big. Their bed. What a thought. She thrust her hips. If she could just - . She didn’t know.  

Soon she would be able to just reach over and find him there, when she wanted. “Till tomorrow,” he’d said. How would she manage to wait till then? She wanted him now. Now. She was too wicked and wanton to wait. She wanted him there with that thing tense, uncoiling inside her. Her hips rocked faster, she crashed against the bed, shaking the frame. Someone would hear. She didn’t care. No! She would not stifle the noise. She rocked harder. Some relief was coming. Theo’s fingers sliding under the edge of her drawers. Oh God, yes, that. His hands - strong with elegant, tapering fingers. Not like Clive’s, his were monstrous, like Boccaccio’s _Prophet David_ , but she had wanted them on her, hadn’t she? She cried out, a sort of guttural moan. What if Clive heard? She didn’t care. Let him hear. To hell with him. She’d make him sorry. She was Theo’s now. Theo uncoiling inside her. And then she was at a place of no return. She looked down at herself; the covers pushed back, her body frozen, her legs flung apart, exposed, and made one final push. And God, finally the relief! Pleasure to silence everything for a moment.   

When it was over, she was aware of being exposed, and it wasn’t the thrilling thing it had been seconds before. She pulled her legs together, hid under the covers. Not ashamed exactly, but a little guilty. Was it wrong to think of Clive like that, in the final moments? Well, what did it matter? She would think only of Theo next time. She laid back, exhausted suddenly. The sleepiest she’d ever felt. Just heavy and lovely and oh, _happy,_ she supposed.

She awoke a while later to the sound of the dinner gong. Good Lord! Clive. How could she face him at dinner? After everything he’d done and then thinking of him like _that_? Oh, she would never face him again. She would get Theo to tell him about their engagement. Send him off with a drink and a smoke and a handshake. She needn’t be part of it. That was cowardly perhaps, but no worse than Clive, sneaking off to Mariel’s stables without her.    

She got up and put on her dressing gown. Scrawled a hasty note to Clive - she had a headache and wouldn’t be down to dinner - and then rang for a nurse’s aide to deliver the message. And could she manage a cup of tea as well? She was starving, but she would make do with a tin of sardines and a packet of crackers that she’d smuggled in her handbag for emergencies. It would have been wonderful to have had dinner with Theo. The segregation of the English patients from the others had never bothered her before. Now it seemed unnecessarily cruel. She wrote a note to Theo as well, bidding him good night and asking him to be sure to tell Clive their news. He would anyway, she was sure; she was writing, really, just because she could. “Congratulate Herr Candy on his engagement as well,” she added as an after-thought. That would shame him a little. She sent it with the aide when she brought the tea, directing her to deliver it to in the dining room. Failing that she should leave it in his room.   

Oh dear, so much to do: letters to write home and the arrangement of her small competence. It had been maddening to be left here all these weeks dependent on Clive and the government when there was money in the bank at home. As if she were not a real person worthy of an income until she was a wife. But the money would help Theo along too, and that was a nice thought. She could buy him little presents. What fun it would be to spoil him. He was like a happy child with his mischievous gap-toothed smiles. This was something wasn’t it - to miss a person madly who you’d only just left; to want to buy them things they didn’t need and to think a couple of imperfect teeth adorable.   

She sat by her window, watching the light change on the canal while she ate her humble supper. It was terribly good, the salty fish and the salty crackers. Lord, but she was thirsty as well. The tea was the usual weak sort with no milk. She didn’t mind, it was astringent and washed down the fish. She fancied she could see the place where their little boat had lodged among the pines on the far side. She imagined that by now Clive had returned from dinner. He and Theo were probably toasting their new engagements with that blasted kirschwasser. Foul tasting stuff, slightly oily, like cherry flavoured kerosene. Edith had always drunk it to be a sport and because she was flattered to be offered the same as the men.  

Poor, dear Clive. She hoped he would be happy with Mariel, but she feared not. And some part of her was pleased that he would eventually come to regret missing his chance with her. He might pine for her always! How mean she was and how full of herself. If he had used her ill, as her mother might say, he had not meant to. He was only careless, not vicious.

The light failed. She lit her lamp and made an unsuccessful attempt at her letter home. She managed the letter to the bank no better. “I am happy to inform you that I will soon be Mrs. Kretsch- ” Oh dear. She must learn to spell it. Theo would show her. Tomorrow. Maybe she could just nip down now and make sure that he had got her note? But no, Clive would probably be there, or Theo gone, and in Clive’s room. She thought jealously of Clive with Theo. Funny, wasn’t it? Hours before she’d been jealous of Theo monopolising Clive. Now Theo was to be all hers. She hoped they wouldn’t get too drunk, but they probably would. They were little better than naughty boys. She suspected they often flouted the rules of the nursing home, and - since this was their last night - they were bound to push the boat out. Oh, lord, what a choice of words!  

She gave up on her letters, got back into bed and tried to read her first aid book. She had bought it for her job, imagining that as a governess she might sometime be required to splint a child’s finger, or bandage a knee. She read and reread the section on bandaging head wounds without absorbing it. She kept getting distracted trying to imagine what Theo looked like without his bandages. What would be like to touch his head and run her fingers through his hair? She laughed to herself. At this rate, she’d end up like before, shaking her little bed to pieces. But no, she’d be quiet this time. After all, it was a very good way to get to sleep.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is as near canon-compliant with the film as I can be, and as true to **idlesuperstar’s** parts of the story, as they are now my accepted head canon. Also true to the impish Emeric Pressburger that lives in my head. To reduce [**idlesuperstar's**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/idlesuperstar) contribution to this as a mere beta would be negligent. She coaxed life into my skeletal prose, she fangirled to keep me going, and she repeatedly wrestled in the mud of the track changes. It’s her baby as much as mine.


End file.
